


Pale Recall

by LoloxTheMuffin



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, No Plot/Plotless, Not Beta Read, Not Beta Read We Die Like the Pale King, Not Beta Read for We Die Like Tiso
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:27:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28424712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoloxTheMuffin/pseuds/LoloxTheMuffin
Summary: (Old Title: Old Cutlery Feels, Too)The Pale King remembers.Hornet, the White Lady, and the Hollow Knight are all mentioned but do not truly appear.(Minor Edits --> Fixed pronouns and capitalization where needed. Even so, I suspect that I still have missed a couple.)
Relationships: The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & The Pale King
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	Pale Recall

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't very long, nor is it well-written, but I attempted to capture my 12am inspiration in this quick scramble of a fic as it nears 2am. This is my first official fic for the Hollow Knight fandom (not counting one that never quite made it past its second chapter).  
> I hope that I used the tags correctly - if there are any discrepancies with the details, please let me know. I'm still rather new to this website.
> 
> This technically contains spoilers, but if you are reading this fic, you probably already know the basic story-beats anyway. If there is any point that could be considered a spoiler to be more wary of discussing openly, please point it out.  
> This fic doesn't really have a place where it would fit in the timeline; to be honest, I just wanted to write about an old, pale fork and his guilt over terrible parenting. If I were to attempt to place it, I would say that it is recently after the Hollow Knight was secured within the Black Egg.

The Pale King’s workshop was the perfect place for the creation of Void constructs. Buried within a nest of complex, grand walls and a frightening drop, the small yet important collection of rooms was frighteningly cold. All warmth had seeped out of the place, as if fearing the creations - or more accurately, the substance of which the creations were formed. But it held no candle to the never-ending Abyss. The Void kept Its secrets close to Itself, clutching facts unknown to all to Its metaphorical chest, and the forlorn King scraped what He could from His extensive studies. Even so, the King had no doubt that His Vessel -  _ the _ Vessel, would be hollow. The perfect chest for containing the Infection; a lock with no key to twist, no possible pathway to escape out from. Monomon the Teacher confirmed this when questioned, as did countless passersby when the child was conversated about. He told Himself this, and despite how the Hollow Knight would never spare even a twitch when referred to, He felt guilty. He was a being not of normal caliber, as He was a Pale Being. He shouldn’t feel such mortal bonds, including the nonsensically frequent maternal pings that came about when His spawn was brought up. He allowed Himself no time to reflect upon His grievous deeds through constant study and work, prioritizing even the most minor of squabbles of lower nobles over spending time with those that He had sired, including the Gendered Child and the Knight. 

Perhaps He was scared - a laughable idea, tarnished by a deep instinct that told that the assumption was right. Frightened of the prospect that His child, mindless offspring or not, was to be assumed devoid of will. He had seen the signs, and He was sure that the White Lady had observed many of them too despite Her cloudy eyes. Brief moments in which the King would hear them; quiet, timid footsteps approaching from a hall from which no one other than He should breach the exit of. Perhaps He wouldn’t have minded the interruption so much at first if the Hollow Knight had walked more confidently. If the pace had been steadfast and not suggesting curiosity and uncertainty. He knew that His child had seen him fall asleep at the desk after extensive study and stress - possibly more times than He was aware of. The child must’ve done something, for He had woken up late into the evening, only to find cold breakfast on the worn table. Who could’ve put it there? So many answers, many with plausible, sensible,  _ safe _ answers, and yet one stood clear to Him. It had to have been His child, and It -  _ it _ \- had to have known that He would be hungry. That such a gnawing feeling could exist and be acted upon.

When Hornet was stubborn and refusing to cease her childish banter and tricks, she would always go to the Knight. The little red-clad lass would cling to her sibling of considerably higher stature and tell them all about it, ranting to them. When the King and many others reprimanded her behavior with the Chosen Vessel, she would berate anyone within earshot, claiming that they shouldn’t care if she one-sidedly communicated with someone who couldn’t even comprehend the emotional significance behind her tirades. Even if she thought that they simply refused to hear her, she would continue for what felt like eons. He, her father, always stood coldly and never winced at the dagger she unintentionally dug into His immortal heart.

How the King longed for someone to confide in, and yet the opportunity never presented itself, not even within the presence of His most cherished and appreciated. The few attempts made with the White Lady ended only with worsening feelings bubbling within like untamed Void, lacking anything to assist in giving it something to form and balance itself with. She was better at feigning ignorance within Herself than He and lacked no filter that told Her when to stop revealing the products of Her mind’s workings. The White Lady felt more attachment to their offspring than He, and yet She still remained less heartbroken when the Knight was cast off into the Black Egg.

The Pale King mused over the memory; before He had even left the grand walls of His palace, He refused offerings of nourishment as his stomach refused to settle. Vividly, He could still feel the faint ache of his old bones from walking such a distance, though not entirely due to how most of His time was spent sitting. The stones on which He traveled seemed to forbid him further entry as His presence made itself known to areas closest to where the Knight’s final destination would lie. It knew what He was about to let happen. What He had started, and what His Chosen Vessel would finish.

He had observed Hallownest’s saving grace as it had walked into the Egg. The flow of time’s river seemed to slow itself for Him, no doubt taking pleasure within the emotional bursts occurring within the foolish King as every detail of the Knight’s passing was noted. Chains had rattled unpleasantly as they dangled from the Chosen Vessel’s form, ringing with familiar tunes to the hollow palace’s buzzsaw choir like ghosts of the place that got the Knight to where it stood. The clinking of the interlocked segments had settled for a mere moment, not even a second, where the Hollow Knight paused to take in the careful patterns that had been painstakingly etched into the rock. The imprints of their - its - teachers and future guardians, who would be taking a mantle similar to a father in how they would be looking over  _ it _ . 

The King wondered what His child thought before it passed the threshold. If it had realized that its entire life had been a mere visage of what would’ve been if they were raised under any other circumstances. That their -  _ i t s  _ \- parents truly loved it. It would’ve heard lullabies from someone other than whispers from bugs who barred what they felt, from something more than the occasional storm. That it wouldn’t have had to witness its own statue being planned to be a centerpiece in the City whenever they were brought along during a visit.

It could’ve been something more than an expendable thing. Someone treated as it should’ve been under any normal bug’s watch.

The King wondered if it felt any of that.

He hoped with what little soul He had left within Him that it was worth it.

But something told Him that no kingdom’s worth of treasury could sustain the same weight as this. The Pale Being collected His thoughts and discarded them, just like His greatest spawn would’ve. No cost was too great when it came to prolonging the immortality of Hallownest. None.

**Author's Note:**

> Finished just before it struck 2:16. I should probably get some sleep.


End file.
